


Distractions

by faithtastic



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Leliana running interference, Pre-Femslash, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 08:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithtastic/pseuds/faithtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An interlude between Lavellan and Josephine, in which they continue to dance around acknowledging their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Another companion piece to 'this is what you do to me', following on from 'All the Right Moves'.

"Is something the matter, Your Worship? It seems your mind is elsewhere."

Naevys blinked, realising that she'd been caught out. She'd been distracted by the tiny smudge of ink on the other woman's cheek, only half-listening as Josephine summarised the current state of relations between Empress Celene and Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. Fascinating as the political situation was, her gaze kept straying to the black streak that accentuated a high cheekbone.

"Sorry. It's just - you have a little, um, ink..." She gestured towards her own face, roughly in the vicinity of where the mark was.

"What? Oh!" Josephine touched the opposite cheek self-consciously. "You should have mentioned it sooner. Goodness, small wonder the diplomatic attaché from Nevarra was staring at me so strangely when I met with him this afternoon. How embarrassing!"

"Other side." She missed the smudge again and Naevys found herself smiling. "Here, allow me. And, I assure you, it only adds to your already considerable charm, Lady Montilyet."

Rounding the desk, Naevys pulled free the scarf tied loosely around her own neck. Before the Ambassador could object Naevys perched on the edge of the desk and brought her fingers under Josephine's chin, tiling her head up towards the light. With the utmost care Naevys gently wiped the ink away with the scarf, regretting it was only cotton and not the fine silk Josephine deserved.

"There. Perfect once more."

The hand holding the scarf fell away but her touch lingered at Josephine's chin. She allowed herself a moment to admire the other woman, the way the sunlight caught her eyes, the faint blush that stained her cheeks a darker shade of bronze.

This was the first time they'd truly been alone together since their dancing lesson, the near kiss. She hadn't found the nerve to go to Josephine that night and they'd slipped back into their previous manner with each other: Naevys covering awkwardness with often ill-judged humour; Josephine, polite yet inscrutably professional. It had Naevys questioning whether she'd imagined the whole blighted thing.

Now, the way Josephine was looking at her - seemingly equally taken, if the curious sweep of grey eyes over Naevys's face was any indication - the quickening she'd felt, that frisson of exciting possibility, came rushing back.

Creators, but Josephine was _gorgeous_.

Naevys wanted so badly to take the other woman's face in her hands and kiss her, to find out if those lips were as soft as they looked. Without conscious thought Naevys's touch strayed from Josephine's chin, the backs of her fingers ghosting up the slope of a cheek.

Long, dark lashes fluttered in response, Josephine's blush deepening. "Your Worship, I..." She sounded almost girlish, the words trailing off into a sigh. It was the sweetest sound but it was enough to rouse Naevys from the spell she was under.

What _was_ she doing, exactly? This - sitting on Josephine's desk, _stroking her cheek_ \- was so dangerously beyond the bounds of propriety. If anyone saw them like this, they'd assume... Well. Not that Naevys gave a damn what shems thought of her but she was concerned for Josephine's reputation. The Ambassador worked so tirelessly for the good of the Inquisition; she didn't deserve to have her efforts undermined by becoming the subject of salacious gossip involving a 'knife-ear'.

Naevys withdrew though she wasn't oblivious to the brief flicker of _something_ in Josephine's expression. 

"I'm sorry. That was - it won't happen again."

She shifted her hips, about to push off from the desk, when Josephine placed a hand on her wrist. The touch was like a shock, raising goosebumps along the length of Naevys's arm. It was bewildering, the way her body reacted so strongly to the simplest of touches from Josephine; even just the light pressure of fingertips on her skin left Naevys trembling.

"Ah, well. In that case I shall be the sorrier party," Josephine murmured.

"You mean - " Naevys bit her lip. "What _do_ you mean?" She had to know that she wasn't reading too much into this, that it wasn't all just wishful thinking borne from a one-sided infatuation that was spiralling out of control.

"I am not adverse to your... attentions, my lady. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Then you like me?"

"It's true that I enjoy your company."

"A very diplomatic answer, Ambassador." She turned her hand over, snagging Josephine's before she could take it back. There were faint ink stains on her fingers but they were elegant nonetheless, long and slim, nails immaculately trimmed. "But do you _like me_ like me?"

The sigh that Josephine released now was one of slight exasperation though it didn't entirely mask the breathy quality of her voice when she said: "You are impossible."

"Impossibly pretty?"

That earned a small begrudging laugh.

"Despite your facetiousness I think you are already fully aware of how pleasing to the eye you are. It may seem terribly superficial but your beauty is, without doubt, a boon to our cause."

"So if I'd had the misfortune to be born with a face only a mother could love I'd be having a much harder time of it? That's a sobering thought. All the same, it's not easy being the poster girl for the Inquisition. Every bandit from the Storm Coast to the Western Approach keeps trying to mar my good looks. I even have the scars to prove it."

"They are not so noticeable." Josephine's free hand lifted to trace the thin scar that intersected Naevys's right eyebrow. There was that energy again, like a charge of static electricity arcing between them. "Although this one is rather dashing. How did you receive it?"

"A little souvenir from a run-in with a Carta member near Lake Luthias. I dropped my guard at the wrong moment and he managed to nick me with his dagger. Suffice to say, he didn't live long enough to boast about it."

"And this?" Josephine's fingers drifted down Naevys's cheek to the faded ghost of an old wound just below her bottom lip.

"Whacked in the face by a branch when I was eight years old. Falling out of a tree is sort of a rite of passage when you're Dalish. My brothers teased me about it endlessly."

Pricked by that memory her good humour suddenly deflated because, _sweet Mythal_ , her brothers. 

The last time she'd seen Lhoris and Galan they'd quarrelled with Keeper Istimaethorial about her being sent to the Conclave, arguing that one of them should go in her place, that she was too young, too inexperienced at dealing with humans. At the time she'd huffed and railed against their concerns, still sore with them when she'd departed. If only she'd known that a matter of weeks later...

They were _gone_. Lhoris. Galan. Istimaethorial. Her entire clan.

Sometimes she didn't know whether she wanted to weep for all eternity or tear the shems responsible apart with her bare hands.

"I am _so_ sorry for your loss," Josephine said, warm palm now cupping Naevys's jaw. "The sentiment is woefully inadequate, I know, but if there is anything more I can do - "

All it took was the kindness shining in Josephine's eyes to bring the tears forth. In truth, they were never very far from the surface but usually Naevys managed to tamp down the grief until it was something small and containable. The next thing she knew Josephine had slipped out of the chair and embraced her, holding her close to her chest. Naevy's own arms went around the Ambassador's waist, clinging desperately as if this woman was a lifeline.

She wept into Josephine's shoulder, dimly aware that she was probably ruining the brocade vest. The Ambassador made no complaint, just rubbed circles on her back, whispering words of consolation until the tears subsided.

When Naevys eventually pulled back she was unable to quite meet the other woman's eyes. "Sorry, I'm an ugly crier. Just as well the faithful masses can't see the face of the Inquisition right now, eh? They'd abandon us in droves."

Josephine brought her hands to Naevys's face, thumbs sweeping carefully over her cheeks to wipe away the remnants of tears. Still Naevys kept hold of her waist, afraid to move or to let go. It was only now that she noticed their position, the way Josephine stood within the V formed by her thighs. It was completely innocent but, viewed out of context, it would look pretty damning.

Naevys was going to make some flippant remark about it when Josephine leaned down and pressed her lips tenderly to one damp cheek, just below her eye, and followed it with a kiss to the other cheek. The gesture was so unexpected, so sweet, that Naeyvs found it difficult to draw air into her lungs, especially when Josephine drew back to look upon her.

"I beg to differ, Your Worship. You are just as lovely like this but I am glad I alone have the privilege of seeing it."

_Creators. How are you even real?_

It felt as if Naevys's heart had grown three sizes in her chest. She wanted to confess everything that she was feeling, just throw it all out there and see where the pieces landed. "I -"

There was a noise from the doorway, hinges creaking as the door swung open. They both turned to see Leliana, whose expression went from surprise to something harder in the span of a second. "Oh, am I intruding? My apologies, I'll return later." There was an edge in her voice that suggested she wasn't the least bit sorry.

Josephine stepped away, a glimpse of impatience flashing in her eyes though her tone was as cordial as always. "No, it's quite all right. Our conversation is concluded." She glanced quickly at Naevys, a look that conveyed regret, before returning her attention to Leliana. "How may I help you?"

"I wished to discuss the travel arrangements to Val Royeaux, if you have a moment? It would be wise to send scouts ahead of your meeting with the House of Repose."

For her part, Naevys could've howled. It was almost as if these interruptions kept happening on purpose.

Clenching her fists, she hopped off the desk. "Ambassador, Sister Leliana, I'll leave you to it. I do believe I'm in need of some target practice."

Yep, there was definitely a training dummy in the courtyard with Sister Nightingale's name on it.

Leliana's arched brow didn't go unnoticed nor the way Josephine suppressed a smile behind her hand.


End file.
